


In the Quiet Morning

by ackermansheart



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe, Eremika - Freeform, F/M, Family, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-27
Updated: 2018-12-27
Packaged: 2019-09-28 20:04:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17189516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ackermansheart/pseuds/ackermansheart
Summary: It was a squeaking — soft, sweet— and she could feel the aching in her chest at the absence. “Eren?” She calls out, perhaps too lightly because by the time her eyes find him, he’s there, across the room—fast asleep. She almost misses the bundle of squirming blankets piled atop his chest.





	In the Quiet Morning

**Author's Note:**

> a/n: It went from a couple hundred words to a couple thousand, so… fill in the blanks. I’ve been stuck in an au fantasy world b/c that’s where I hide from all my canon issues lmao. Plus I simply couldn't resist writing modern Eremika happy and post baby after ch. 112 dropped.  
> I was able to fangirl with @gguksae so always a huge shoutout for letting my muse come to life in our chats. Thanks for letting me constantly spill my word vomit <3

_ “Oh shit.”  _

Eren certainly wasn’t the one with words, no—  _he really wasn’t_. And when it came to seeing his son coming into this world, his choices lessened with each passing moment. “Shit—  _shit_ , Mikasa.” He fully expected to cry— to feel warm tears leak from unbelieved eyes but he wasn’t as near prepared for the onslaught of emotions that followed; like the way he can literally feel the pounding of his heart within his chest when he’s the first one to see his son's face or to touch him. 

He’s placed in Mikasa’s arms before Eren can even think, stumbling himself over to her side, eyeing her carefully. Tears stick to her cheeks but she’s smiling, lips trembling, open mouthed and wanting to speak but not knowing what to say— so he helps her. 

“How— how did you do that?” It’s a stupid question— _a redundant question_. Mikasa was strong without a doubt— she could quite literally kick his ass at any given moment  _(which she may have wanted to not even seconds ago)_  — but fuck, what she just did was something else. He’d never thought he’d see her so weak yet strong all the same. When he thinks about it— after everything— he thinks all of it comes together painted in a truly beautiful light.

Mikasa laughs softly, then, unbelieving of herself with eyes wide and wavering — searching everywhere before they land on his own. Her gaze holds strong, however, lingering with a sheen of something he could only gather as love. “I don’t know,” is her honest reply, her gaze finally tearing away and back to the infant in her arms.

The nurses around them tried to work quick with the way they cleaned him off, and Mikasa only put up a half hearted fight when they wanted to take him to be bathed and weighed. And, not to sound crude, but he’d heard they looked a lot cuter _‘once all the “shit” was cleaned off of 'em’._  He curses Jean to be entering his head in a moment like this, but smiles at the notion all the same.

“He’ll be fine, ‘Meeks.” He tries to keep his voice even despite the _definitely there shake_ inside as their son was taken away. He could hardly keep his hands still as he went to grasp at her face, then, pulling it to his own as he peppered a few kisses to the tops of her cheeks. She wanted to refuse, he knew, but nevertheless she relented, giving in to his embrace and falling against him with a defeated sort of sound. 

“ _You did so good_.” His hands move to her neck and down to her shoulders, giving them a gentle but bracing squeeze before moving back up to lace still shaking fingers into her hair.  He pushes sticky strands from satin cheeks; both thumbs swipe beneath batting wet lashes. “I love you.” He kisses mumbled words like whispers across her face before finally landing back upon her lips. It’s sweet—  _chaste_ , and he pulls away to grab at her fingertips. “You’re such a fucking kick ass.” 

This little phrase of theirs elicits a smile, even if it’s small upon a weary face. Nevertheless, it was a smile; the light in her eyes matching the glow of her skin and he knew that if he could, he would freeze this moment right here— _right now_ — and live in it forever.

“Thanks.” She’s dissolved to a gentle laughter, shoulders shuddering lightly before sitting back and eyeing him with an all familiar eye. “I’m so tired.” He shakes his head, eyes soft following a lilting laugh. As beautiful as she was, she really did look just  _so tired._

“You can rest. They’ll bring him back soon, I promise.” He smiles before throwing a small wink into the mix. “I got this.” 

The corners of her lips upturn and her eyes flutter closed when he moves a hand to cup her cheek. He can feel her entire body trembling beneath his fingertips but he knew it was only because of shock. It still caused his chest to ache when he knew there was nothing he could do to help it ease.

“Really— rest. We’ll be here when you wake up.”

 

* * *

 

 

_ “Eren?” _

Beeping, silence— _calm._ It was almost too quiet as she feels herself rising from hazy sleep to a pinky wakeness. It takes a tug or two against wires to rub at her eyes as they open to bleary white shadowed walls. It was a twilight reverie with how the moon now hung above them. That’s where her eyes land, first, fixated on the dull glow against the backlit sky. It takes only a few moments of a disrupted silence to bring her back to reality and the noises for which caught her attention.

It was a squeaking — soft, _sweet_ — and she could feel the aching in her chest at the absence. “Eren?” She calls out, perhaps too lightly because by the time her eyes find him, he’s there, across the room— _fast asleep._ She almost misses the bundle of squirming blankets piled onto his chest.

He’s reclined back, a makeshift bed he’d seemed to fashion together with legs propped up. His head is down, however, leaning against their son’s head with two hands still tightly secured around the now squirming bundle underneath them. The sight in and of itself clutched at her chest, her lungs fighting, in a way, just to take a single breath.

_ Maybe it was the hormones, but she was definitely feeling some type of way. _

It was almost a shame to have to wake them, but she could tell the baby was about to be awake. _“Eren,”_ she tried a bit harder, and she watches his eyes shoot open. He doesn’t move, not at first, hands still tight around his new son but his head turns lightly, then, raising to meet her eyes from across the room.

“Hey.” His voice is light,  _deep_ — a gentle cadence carried across a distilled quiet. “You’re awake.”

“So are you,” she volleys, but her voice is rough as she tries to speak. “Come ‘ere please.”

Her hands reach out towards them as much as they can, Eren’s lips lifting to a delicate smile from where he began to stand. It took only a few solid strides before he’d finally reached her. She’d forgotten how long it had been and what had happened in the time between; she’d still yet to see her son freshly faced.

 “I’ve literally been staring at him for hours.” Eren breaks the silence once again, a slight laugh to his voice as he explains it, both of his palms wiping down his face when he sighs, “I’m pretty sure that’s how I fell asleep.” His eyes roll, but softly, his lips rubbing together as to fight off something perhaps unknown. “He’s… just look at him.”

Her eyes flit away from Eren’s face and down to the bundle of squirm within her arms. His eyes were closed, but she follows the tracings of his nose and the way the shadow catches on his full head of darkened hair. On instinct, she reaches out, delicate fingertips smoothing a soft pattern along the top of his head before leaning down, her nose rubbing the tip of his forehead.

Carla Jaeger once said there’s not a chance in hell anyone was cuter than her baby boy. But, to this day Mikasa was sure, as she studied her sons face, that nobody was as cute as her own.

His skin was so soft— and it was one of the only things she could think of as she runs gentle fingers along his face. Puffy cheeks; _red_ cheeks. Furrowed brows as he transitions to wakeness. She notes the way his lips pout in the same way his father’s do when he, too, does not want to wake up.

“He’s perfect.” She’s snapped away again, the sound of Eren’s voice pulling her from her own little world of moonlit silence. She had almost forgotten he’d been standing there but as her eyes seek him out among the shadows, he leans closer into her light and she meets a starry gaze. “He’s literally perfect, Mikasa. I really don’t know how you— or _we_ , I guess— did it.”

He’s shaking his head and blinking rapidly and she knows he’s trying not to cry by the way his nose flares. He never wanted to admit it, but Eren was one of the biggest softie’s that she knew and to date he’s cried more than he would ever admit to. But this time was different— this time wasn’t born from anger or the lack of ways to figure out proper emotions. No, this was…  _pure._

_“Somehow,”_ she whispers— it’s a simple response, she figures, that would suffice for her lack of reasoning. “We did it somehow.”

**_“Somehow,”_**  he matches.

**Author's Note:**

> a/n: I posted this on tumblr a while back and decided to go ahead and post here! 
> 
> You can find me on Tumblr @ackermansheart. Most of my writing and works can be found there! It may take some digging, however - my organization is a mess. I end up writing blurbs and drabbles so most of my stuff will end up here eventually.


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